


Marvels Have Gathered

by HawthornSword



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Happy Ending, Oneshot, implied Grif/Simmons, implied Tucker/Washington, one-sided Locus/Washington, season 15 finale au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthornSword/pseuds/HawthornSword
Summary: "You keep turning over that new leaf, buddy. I'm proud of you." Grif says, and Locus has the horrible realization that Grif is saying goodbye. Of all the things Grif could have done right now, he chose to call Locus to tell him goodbye.
Relationships: Dexter Grif & Locus | Samuel Ortez
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Marvels Have Gathered

**Author's Note:**

> Locus and Grif are my BroTP and I need so much more of it in my life. Also, it bugged me that all we got about Wash at the end of 15 was like, one line. Like, you can't do that to my bae and leave me hanging. I know it's been ages, and he's fine now, but it was still bugging me. So, here is a thing. Enjoy.

Locus watches, invisible, as the nurses speed down the hospital hallway with Agent Washington on a gurney. Doctor Grey is already prepping for surgery. He is in capable hands. There is nothing more Locus can do for the man at this point. 

Instead of waiting uselessly for news on the Freelancer, he calls Grif to ask where they are so he can rendezvous with them and help deal with Temple’s team. There is a great deal of background noise which, after a moment, resolves into what sounds distressingly like vomiting. Simmons’ resigned tone paints the background before Grif finally speaks.

“Locus - that you buddy?”

“Yes.”

“Grif, what the hell?” Simmons squawks in the background. “Are you on the phone?”

"Locus - Sam - listen." Grif sounds determined, more serious than Locus has ever heard him, with just a touch of fear beneath that.

"I need you to stay with Wash, man. We may not make it out of this, and ... he shouldn't be alone. Wash doesn't do well on his own. I mean, I didn't either, obviously. I guess no one does .... You shouldn't be alone either."

"Grif, tell me where you are. I can help you," Locus insists. Kimball and the lieutenants would look after Wash, there was no reason for Grif to ask Locus to do such a thing.

"You keep turning over that new leaf, buddy. I'm proud of you," Grif says, and Locus has the horrible realization that Grif is saying goodbye. Of all the things Grif could have done right now - he chose to call Locus and tell him goodbye. 

"Grif. Grif, wait!" He shouts, as if that will hold Grif there, keep the connection open. But Locus should know better. Sarge has been yelling at Grif for years with no effect. The connection has already been terminated, and when Locus tries to call back he gets no answer. He stands alone in A’rynasea and feels sick.

xxx

Locus keeps his invisibility turned on and stays with Washington. He stands in the corner of the Intensive Care room most of the time, only taking breaks when absolutely necessary. He’s still new to allowing himself feelings again, and he can’t decide if boredom or worry is worse.

He doesn't have to wait as long as he feared he would for news. Ms. Andrews gets her story out surprisingly quickly. He has a brief moment of panic that she will reveal his part in it, but thankfully no mention of him ever comes up. All the Reds and Blues are alive, they saved the day, and some of the villains were even arrested. He expects the team will be back for Washington soon. Locus tells himself that he shouldn't expect Grif to call - that he should leave. 

He doesn't leave. 

When Washington is transferred out of the ICU to a regular recovery room, Locus goes back to his ship and trades his armor for civilian clothes before returning to the hospital. He feels naked, but it is a better disguise than any armor or invisibility in Armonia’s rebuilding civilian population. Someone outside of armor on Chorus these days is seen as hopeful, comfortable, secure - the complete opposite of a guilt-ridden paranoid ex-villain. 

Back in the hospital, Locus modulates his voice when he speaks to the receptionist, asking for Wash's room and visiting hours, doing his best to sound gentle and friendly. She doesn't bat an eye, but he's probably never spoken to her before. It will be harder to convince someone like Dr. Grey that she doesn’t know him. 

He goes back to Washington's room, pulls up a chair at the bedside, and continues keeping watch. When Dr. Grey comes in, she gives him an appraising look. He just nods at her.

"It's so nice to see that Wash has visitors! I'm sure his team will be happy to know someone was here for him until they can get back." She stares at him, waiting for a response.

“Grif me contactó. Me pidió que me quedara con él."  _ [Grif contacted me. He asked me to stay with him."] _ He hopes the Spanish will be enough to disguise him.

"That's wonderful," Grey says, but she's still giving him that sharp look, evaluating him. Locus feels like a prey animal caught in the sights of something with particularly sharp teeth. He isn’t used to the sensation anymore. He focuses on not showing fear. He’s never been as good at it outside of armor.

Eventually, she breezes out of the room, and Locus prepares to flee. He has several guns and knives on him, and has prepared 16 different escape routes. But no one comes. No alarm sounds. Minute by minute he relaxes - not much, but enough that he can go back to focusing on Washington instead of potential escape routes.

It is night when Wash wakes the first time. He startles at Locus's hulking shadow and struggles to speak until Locus lays a hand on his arm.

"Don’t try to speak, Agent Washington. You are safe. You are in the hospital on Chorus. Dr. Grey has treated your wounds. Your team defeated Temple. They did well. I presume they are on their way back to you now." Wash relaxes at that and soon falls back asleep. 

Locus expects Dr. Grey to chase him out, or at least force him to observe some set time for visiting hours, but she doesn't. That might be because he gives detailed reports of any change in Washington's condition each time she enters the room - still in Spanish, but she speaks it. Because of course she does. Whatever the reason, the next time Wash wakes, he doesn't say anything at first - just stares at Locus in confusion.

"Who?" He rasps out. Locus almost gives his codename to the confused man out of habit before remembering that being out of armor is actually the disguise this time. He was very careful to never be seen out of armor during the war. He's facing away from the security camera, so no one watching could read his lips … it’s probably safe enough.

"It is only me, Agent Washington. You are safe." Washington’s eyes widen in shock at the familiar voice.

"Lo-"

"Sam. My real name is Sam." He cuts Washington off, and wonders what it is about the Reds and Blues that makes him abandon all reason and keep  _ giving out his real name _ . "Dr. Grey was kind enough to let me sit with you until your team returns. I'm sure they'll be here soon."

"They okay?" Wash rasps.

"You shouldn’t be speaking. You need to heal. But as far as I could tell from Ms. Andrews’ story, yes, everyone is fine." 

Sam hands Wash a datapad with the relevant story. Wash consumes the words and videos like a drowning man breaking the surface for air.

"You should rest now, Agent Washington," Sam says when Wash finishes reading the news and hands back the tablet.

"Wash."

"What?"

"Not Agent. Wash."

Sam realizes he's being given permission to use Wash's preferred name as opposed to his title. He tries to ignore the gratified feeling this causes, but cautiously places a hand on Wash's shoulder.

"Rest Wash. Don't exacerbate your injuries." Wash blinks at him, sleepy again already, and nods off after a few moments. When Sam is sure no one is near, no one is around to see, he carefully runs his fingers through Wash's hair. Wash turns into the touch. Sam really hopes this doesn't come back to bite him.

It absolutely does. 

Sam accidentally falls asleep in his chair and has his head tipped back, snoring softly, when the entire Red and Blue crew come in. He snaps awake in shock, nearly reaching for a weapon before he realizes what's happening. They're all staring at him. Grif approaches first, as if nothing is amiss.

"Hey, Sam. How's he doin’?" Grif is clearly exhausted, but he has the energy to give Sam a friendly grin and a pat him on the back. Sam hesitates, wonders if it is time to use one of his escape routes, but decides to hell with it. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"He's recovering well. You didn't call back. I was worried."

The entire crew does a double-take when they hear his voice, and Sam should have known this was a bad idea - but Grif aggressively shushes them all before they can say anything. Grif reminds them that, “Sam needs to lay low, remember - don't fuck this up after he saved all your asses! He saved Wash!“

They all agree but still keep shooting him wary looks every few minutes. Especially Simmons, and especially when Grif squeezes his shoulder and then pulls up a chair to lean against Sam with an exhausted sigh. Simmons looks like he might commit murder on the spot. Sam wonders if Grif has had time to declare his feelings to Simmons since reuniting. He wants to move, to put some space between himself and everyone there, but he fears if he does Grif will simply topple onto the floor. The man is having trouble keeping his eyes open.

Dr. Grey comes back in, and her sharp eyes zero in on Grif leaning against Sam for a moment before she informs them that Carolina is on bed rest for the time being, receiving fluids and nutrition. Carolina had wanted to see Wash first, but Grey railroaded her into a recovery room first - she and Wash are in similar states after all, minus the gunshot.

It’s after everyone is settled in that someone new enters the picture. A young woman who looks almost exactly like Grif, except she’s remarkably muscular, enters the room with a stack of pizza boxes.

"Hey guys, sorry for the delay. Who knew getting Sammie's to open a location here would be so much trouble.” She sounds far more energetic than the rest of the group.

"What? It's only been a few days. How did you do that? That's amazing!" Simmons stares at her, jaw dropped and green eyes wide with amazement.

"Oh, I have a contract with them for the Burning Gulch festival, so we're pretty tight." She waves a hand dismissively as she sets the pizza boxes on Wash’s feet.

“Yeah, you are! Bow chicka bow wow!” Tucker’s catch-phrase is muffled from where his head is pillowed on his arms on the other side of Wash’s bed. His eyes are closed, and Wash’s fingers are tangled in his dreadlocks. Sam notices there are a couple of grey and yellow beads in Tucker’s hair.

“Dude, don’t even start with that,” Grif growls, and Tucker’s shoulders shake with laughter.

“How you doin’, cop?” the woman asks fondly, ignoring Tucker and Grif.

Sam looks around in confusion. There are no police in the room, but Wash’s raspy chuckle draws his attention. The man raises a hand, giving her a thumbs up. He’s been doing his best to obey Dr. Grey’s order to not speak. Sam realizes there must be a story there, though he still doesn’t know who this woman is. He doesn’t recognize her from Chorus. The pizza boxes are passed around, and everyone divvies up their preferred toppings.

"Sam, what kind of pizza do you want bro?" Grif nudges him with a box and holds it out towards him, as if this is something they do.

"I..." The bubbly woman’s bright eyes are locked onto Sam the instant he speaks. 

"Who's the new guy?" she demands.

"Oh right. You missed that part.” Grif’s tone is casual - almost flippant. “Kai, this is Sam. New guy on Red team. Sam, this is my little sister Kai. We'll tell you the whole story later, when we're somewhere that's - not here." 

"Okay," Kai says easily. Sam isn’t sure if Grif means he’ll tell Kai about him, or tell him about Kai. Both? And what’s this about being on Red Team? He feels like he’s missed a step somewhere.”

"Nice to meet you," Sam says cautiously. Kai is eyeing him with a vaguely hungry look.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, hot stuff." She leans in close. "Are you single?"

"Kai - no!" Grif cries.

"Oh. You already called dibs? I thought you and Simmons finally got together." Grif sputters, and Simmons blushes bright red.

"Wha - no - Kai, shut the fuck up! Leave Sam alone. He's shy. Also, he's nursing a hopeless crush on Wash, so."

"I am not!" Sam does his best not to shout. Or panic. Or blush.

"Oh, Sam, don't be embarrassed," Donut starts. "Wash is a very attractive man. He’s got that haggard, soulful look going on. And we all saw how you followed him around like a super creepy stalker back during the war. Admittedly that doesn't do it for everyone, but I don't kink-shame." It was truly amazing how Donut could be sincerely sweet and backhanded at the same time.

"I wasn't -" Sam starts to insist, but the conversation has already moved on to something else entirely, as if this is perfectly normal. Grif nudges him with an elbow. He is still holding the box of pizza in offering. Sam sighs and takes a slice. 

Sam hasn't had pizza in a long time. Probably not since late-night planning meetings with Isaac and Mason when they were still bounty hunting. He tries not to moan at the burst of flavor on his tongue. It’s probably too much after literal years of nothing but MREs. This group bitches and banters just as much as the three of them ever did, and Sam is momentarily overwhelmed by the flood of painful nostalgia.

He almost leaves, but as he eyes the door Grif squeezes his shoulder again. 

"It's not good to be alone, dude." Sam looks between the door, and Grif, and the rest of the Reds and Blues. 

He settles back into his chair and grabs another slice of pizza.

  
  



End file.
